Expectations Unavailing
by dilemma 224
Summary: Written from Lily's POV. . .It's Lily's seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But with the threat of Voldemort, as well as the burden of an unlikely, drug-addicted friend, will Lily be able to make it through the year?


Well, this appears to be my first fanfic in just about forever. . .here goes. . .

:-Disclaimer-:-Everything recognizable is JK Rowling's.

**Chapter 1 – Half-Expressions **

The summer term was my favorite at Hogwarts, mostly because the majority of the professors holed up in their studies and almost all the other students left. The school became a gigantic castle for just me and a select few to lounge lazily around in. 

Aingsley Mutlog, one of my roommates, hated being inside, especially if "inside" constituted hanging around in the Gryffindor Common Room. She was always off on some twisted outdoor adventure, and usually towing me alongside.

On one of the last days of the term, with the start of the new school year looming near, the two of us were down by the lake behind the school, smoking cigarettes and watching Yvette King shooting up.

"God." I hated watching this. "_God_."

Aingsley, with her cigarette hanging from her fingers as she leaned against a tree, looked at me and then back at Yvette. "Why do you even care, Lil?" She closed her eyes and took a long drag from her cigarette. "I mean, who the fuck cares anymore, anyway. Everyone does it." She was looking up through the branches now and into the clear sky. She took another drag and looked back at Yvette. "God, just look at her. She's spilling that whole fucking thing. What a _fucking_ waste."

I shot her a look, but she just smiled her sort of half-frown and stamped out her cigarette butt. She stared broodingly at Yvette again. "I'm gonna go help her with that shit before she wastes it all."

"She's a Slytherin, Aingsley."

"So?" And before I could even try to stop her, Aingsley was halfway down to the riverbank, calling out to the barely sober Yvette. I took one last drag from my own cigarette, threw it on the ground, and headed up to the school. There was no point in waiting for Aingsley; by the time she came back up, there'd be no use in trying to talk to her. Just before turning the corner, I turned around and looked back at the riverbank where the two were standing. Aingsley had taken the needle from Yvette and was rolling up her sleeve.

I slowly turned around again and walked back to the Common Room to listen to the WWW before dinner.

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Being allowed to stay at Hogwarts over the summer term wasn't regular. Most of the kids returned back to their homes and went to the beach or vacationed in America. Or something like that. Staying at Hogwarts during the summer was like…was like a gigantic loudspeaker announcing to the world that you _had_ no home to go back to. That's what I thought of it as, anyway. HEY, WORLD! LILY EVANS IS AN ORPHAN! NOT EVEN A FUCKING AUNT OR UNCLE TO TAKE HER IN! That's what it was like.

Aingsley, of course, loved it. But then, she'd never really known what it was like to have a family. Her parents had both killed themselves, simultaneously, two months after she was born. But I had known my family. Granted, only for the first half of my life, but still. I knew what a mother was. I knew _who_ my mother was. And that made it all the worse for me to stay at that damn school during the hot summer months.

August 31, 1976 was a fresh breath of relief to me. The first day of the autumn term began the next day, thank God. While Aingsley roamed about the school, drinking in the soon-parting emptiness of the Hogwarts campus, I sat eagerly in our dormitory, trying to remember what the room looked like with three other girls occupying it.

Around 6:30, Aingsley came back, looking especially bleak with a cigarette hanging from her mouth and a thousand needle scars decorating her arms.

"How are you going to hide those?" I asked, nodding at the scars.

Aingsley glared at me through her bloodshot eyes. "I know a fucking Skin Healing spell, Lily. Who do you think I am, anyway? Ludo fucking Bagman?"

I let her blow past me, glad that after tonight I wouldn't be forced to spend my time with her. I only smoked in the summer term.

Dinner that night was a tense relief. The professors had emerged from the dust of the castle to eat with us, their presence bringing both educational unease and security to our small table. The school decorations were up already in preparation for the Welcome Back feast, and I began to finally feel at home again in Hogwarts.

Aingsley appeared at the very end of dinner. Her scars were gone, but the paranoia in her eyes gave away that whatever she had taken was still present. I saw McGonagall and Flitwick exchange glances and I was again thankful that by tomorrow morning, my seasonal friendship with Aingsley would be over.

At the end of dinner, when the plates and cups had been magically wiped clean, the ten or so of us began to slowly drip out of the Great Hall. I hung back, looking fondly at the four House flags that hung on the walls.

"Miss Evans."

I turned around to see McGonagall staring somewhat sternly down at me; her square glasses perched stubbornly on the tip of her nose.

"Miss Evans, the Headmaster has asked me to tell you that you have been chosen as the Head Girl." McGonagall held out her hand, revealing a shiny silver badge with the letters HG engraved into it. She smiled, and I was at once reminded of Aingsley's half-frown. "Congratulations, Miss Evans." I took the badge from her, sliding my thumb over the smooth letters.

I've never been good with words, especially when excited, so I just looked back into her stern half-frown and tried to pull my face into the same look. It didn't work, so I just said thank you and walked out of the Great Hall.

Once safely out of McGonagall's sight and earshot, I did a little twirl and sang the only bit that I could remember from the school's anthem. The summer was over at last, I would never have to talk to Aingsley Mutlog again, I was finally a seventh year, _and_ I was the Head Girl of Hogwarts. As I rushed up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, I smoked a cigarette, enjoying it even more because of what it was: my last.

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The returning students arrived in a flurry of wind, wet, and noise the following night. I sat at the Head Table with the professors, feeling more than a little self conscious as I watched the crowd file into the Great Hall and sit down at their respective House Tables. The familiar faces streamed past, laughing and talking with their friends as they magically dried themselves off from the outside storm. I noticed that the chair next to me, reserved for the Head Boy, was still vacant.

Finally, when all the students had settled down at their tables, Headmaster Dumbledore stood up. I hadn't seen him throughout the summer, as he was constantly traveling around the world, and it was comforting to be again in his presence. I wasn't the only one, either, that felt at ease with Dumbledore. The majority of students had abandoned their conversations and was now looking up at the Headmaster with respect.

As Dumbledore began to speak, I looked around the room, forgetting to listen to the speech. It was only his last words ("Dig in!") and the clatter of forks and knives that brought me back from my thoughts. I wasn't hungry though, so I sipped my drink and listened to the conversations around me.

"Fuck the Minister." To my right, Bailey, apparently the new Politics of Wizarding professor, was saying to the somewhat taken aback Professor Jones of Herbology. "_Fuck_ him and _fuck_ the whole goddamn Ministry. They're not doing a _bloody_ thing to protect us from the Northern Giants. Fuck 'em _all_."

To the left, Professors Flitwick and Marple were speaking in hushed voices about something or other.

"Rising again, apparently…Muggles…deaths in the South…"

Suddenly, with a loud crash from the Entrance Hall, the wide, heavy doors of the Great Hall burst open, revealing two extremely wet boys.

"Welcome back, Hogwarts!" The two shouted, confidently striding forward into the Hall.

James Potter and Sirius Black.

I looked over to Dumbledore to see his reaction. His face was set sternly, but his eyes – those clear, piercing eyes – twinkled brilliantly. "Mr Potter, Mr Black." He said, "You appear to be late."

The taller one, Black, smiled winningly at the Headmaster. "We missed the train, Headmaster. The Floo Network was jammed, you see."

Dumbledore cocked his head at the boys. By now, anyone who had managed to miss the entrance was watching. "Funny," Dumbledore smiled. "The Network was fine when I used it just an hour ago." All eyes returned to the boys for the counter.

"Well, Headmaster, as you know, these Networks are highly delicate." Potter was speaking now, quickly and smoothly getting them both out of trouble. "Poor old Finny Drake ordered a Boot for two, and then the silly codger tried getting his whole damn family through. The Ministry's been working on it for the past half hour." He paused, wiping his messy wet hair from his face. "Sirius and I had to really shell out the Galleons to even get here _tonight_, Headmaster."

They had gotten away with it. Anyone could see that. And I hated them for it. Dumbledore smiled gently down at them and waved them off to Gryffindor Table. Potter didn't follow his friend, though. He stood there, smirking as he plunged his hand into his pocket.

"Look here, Headmaster! I get to sit up with you tonight!" He held out his hand, flashing a silver badge, identical to my own, with the letters HB printed on it. I blanched and glanced at the still-empty seat next to me. _James Potter_ was my co-Head?

Dumbledore was still smiling, though. "Ah, yes." He turned to the school. "May I introduce your new two school Heads: James Potter and Lily Evans."

Potter's glance flicked briefly over to me as the school applauded politely. I stood up, trying again to summon Aingsley's half-frown onto my face. Inside, I was seething. I sat back down as Potter climbed his way up to the Head Table and, inevitably, to the seat next to me.

The rest of the school continued eating and talking noisily. I took another sip from my drink and played with my fork.

"Hullo, Evans."

James was offering his hand, and since both McGonagall and Dumbledore were watching us, I reluctantly shook it. He grinned at me and immediately returned to his dinner. His mouth full of pie and potatoes, he turned to me again.

"So, 'ow was yo' summa, Evans?"

I raised my eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Potter swallowed. "I _said_, so how was your summer, Evans?"

I turned away from him and looked out at the Gryffindor Table. "Oh. It was fine, I suppose. Yours?" I wasn't interested at all, so I didn't listen to him as he told me. Instead, I took another sip of whatever I had to drink (pumpkin juice?) and watched Aingsley. She was guzzling down her own drink, which meant that it was either Firewhiskey or Ice Vodka. And _fuck_, did I want some of it.

"Evans? Evans?" Potter was looking at me strangely. I had missed some vital bit in the conversation or something.

"Listen, Potter, this conversation has been absolutely _riveting._ Really." I stared at him sitting there, with another one of those damn half-expressions. Except his wasn't part-frown. His was a half-grin. "Unfortunately, I have a lot of unpacking to get done, seeing as it's the first day and all. So, I'll be going." I stood up to leave.

"You don't need to unpack, Evans." His bloody half-grin was staring up at me.

"What do you mean, I don't need to unpack? Of course I have to unpack!" I was annoyed now, at him and his stupid half-grin.

"You don't need to unpack because you don't ever leave." He was standing now, towering over me and looking down with his half-grin.

I flushed. "Good night, Potter." I glared, willing my flush to go down as I turned and walked proudly out of the Great Hall. But inside, I was reeling. I had worked bloody hard to keep the summer term embarrassment from public knowledge.

But James _fucking_ Potter knew. And if James Potter knew, everyone knew.

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**Review, Please I appreciate any kind of comment, as long as it's constructive )**


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